


Gravitational Pull

by kaydeefalls



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Space, Angst with a Happy Ending, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Temporary Character Death, The Old Guard...IN SPACE, This is a love story, as per canon, except not so much AU as just far enough into the future that space travel is a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaydeefalls/pseuds/kaydeefalls
Summary: "So we're definitely gonna blow up the Death Star, right?" Nile says, an unholy gleam in her eyes.A mission goes awry when Nicky gets trapped aboard an enemy space station; Joe handles it about as well as might be expected, all things considered. So, not so great.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 48
Kudos: 201
Collections: All and More (18+) Kaysanova Gift Bag 2020, The Old Guard Space Fics





	Gravitational Pull

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidnightGardener](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightGardener/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [MidnightGardener](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightGardener/pseuds/MidnightGardener) in the [All_and_More_Gift_Bag_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/All_and_More_Gift_Bag_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Rescues, behind enemy lines, trauma
> 
> I hope this fits! (Prompter also included "Alternate Universe - Space" in the tags, and my brain said YES GOOD.)

"So we're definitely gonna blow up the Death Star, right?" Nile says, an unholy gleam in her eyes.

It isn't _technically_ a Death Star, as Joe and Booker will argue over the next few days. It's much smaller, can't vaporize entire planets, and doesn't have that ominous black moon vibe. But it is in fact a disproportionately sized battlestation constructed around a laser-based weapon that could functionally incinerate a given planet's atmosphere, thereby killing off any resident lifeforms dependent upon that atmosphere for, say, breathing.

"Humanity," Quỳnh remarks flatly, packing a bag of her homemade nanobombs. "What will they come up with next."

Joe likes to think she's mellowed somewhat over the centuries since her vengeful return from the iron maiden, but now and then he does worry.

This war, like so many, essentially boils down to resource allocation: one faction would like more of certain resources than they currently possess and are willing to commit mass murder to accomplish their goals. Joe finds it challenging enough to keep abreast of technological innovation without needing to understand all the details, but he knows that the core of the planet currently orbited by the wannabe Death Star consists of an extremely rare and valuable mineral ore. However, to successfully extract it would render most of the planet surface unlivable, and oddly enough, the people who _do_ live there rather object to that idea.

In a certain light, it's refreshing to commit to a fight with such an unambiguous moral imperative. 

The plan is fairly straightforward. The battlestation is mostly automated, which means not many actual humans onboard, and it's dependent on shielding technology and external weaponry for protection. The problem is, shields can be hacked, and no one really looks for a tiny lone shuttle bumping up against a jettisoned escape pod's airlock. It probably never occurred to anyone that a commando team of four immortals might decide to bring the place down. (Four, because Quỳnh remains behind to pilot their own cloaked ship just within shuttle range. She still doesn't do very well with tight enclosed spaces.)

Once aboard the station, they split into pairs. Booker and Nicky head for the nearest input terminal, where Nicky will cover Booker as he uploads a custom-made computer virus that will erase all of the Death Star's blueprints and programming, as well as creating a distraction for the station personnel in the form of false emergency alerts. Nile and Joe will set the nanobombs at strategic locations throughout the the station and hopefully not get caught. Their task is the more dangerous by far, but a combination of luck, skill, and blaring alarms prevent them from being noticed amidst the general confusion.

They commandeer the nearest escape pod to make their own exit, rather than risk returning to the shuttle; hopefully Booker and Nicky will have already departed in it as planned. Quỳnh picks them up as soon as they're out of the station's shield range. Joe's still riding the adrenaline high of a successful mission, but his enthusiasm wanes abruptly upon learning that Nicky is still trapped aboard the Death Star. Which is due to explode rather spectacularly at some point in the next, oh, ten minutes or so.

"What the _fuck_ ," Joe demands, once he's found the others in the cockpit. He stalks over to Booker and shoves him hard. "He was covering _you_! What the hell happened, Book?"

Booker winces but makes no effort to fight back. "Bad luck. We got made just before the virus finished uploading. He held them off long enough for me to finish, but they were between us and the shuttle, so we aimed for the next set of escape pods instead. They threw something that knocked me right out. When I woke up I was alone in a pod with blood in my ears. He must have shoved me inside and jettisoned the damn thing. Joe, I'm _sorry_."

"You always are," Joe snaps back. It's been several centuries since the Merrick debacle, but sometimes it still feels fresh between them, like an old injury flaring up when the weather turns. And if Joe lets go of this reflexive anger now, he'll have to think about—

He can't.

"Doesn't matter how it happened," Nile says firmly. "Let's focus on getting him back, and fast. Quỳnh, you're still scanning for activity? If Nicky gets back to the shuttle somehow, or another one of those pods..."

The shuttle. Their ship has _two_ shuttles. Joe's already moving before he finishes the thought, but Nile is faster, grabbing his arm. "Don't even think about it, mister."

"I have to—"

"If you fly back there, you'll both be stuck in that death trap, and that helps literally no one," she retorts. "It _will_ blow before you can reach him."

"It's _Nicky_." His voice cracks, and he doesn't even care.

Nile's face softens. Her grip on his bicep does not. "I know. It's Nicky, and he's very good at what he does, so please trust that he is fighting his way back to you. Quỳnh, scans?"

"Nothing yet. Eight minutes left on the countdown."

"How close can we get without getting caught in the blast radius?"

Quỳnh hesitates. "Closer than this, but even with the shield disabled, we'll definitely show up on _their_ scans. We're a lot bigger than a shuttle."

"Well, that's only gonna matter for another eight minutes, right?" Nile points out.

Quỳnh gives her a knife-slash of a smile and hits the metaphorical gas.

Joe slumps into the rarely-used copilot's seat. He's shaking, he notices distantly. How singularly useless. He stares out at the blackness of space as the battlestation grows larger before them, squinting as though he might somehow spot something before their scanners pick it up.

There is nothing in this vast universe he hates more than being utterly helpless while the other half of his soul is in danger. There is an empty space behind his ribcage where his heart should be. It aches fiercely, like a phantom limb.

One of the many sensors on the control panel shrills a warning.

"They're targeting us," Booker says, as though it needs saying. Quỳnh scoffs and flips a switch to silence that particular alarm.

"Evasive maneuvers," Nile orders calmly. "Those big cannons of theirs take a while to point and shoot, we just need to avoid the strafers."

As if on cue, sharp beams of light streak out towards them. Booker and Nile both brace themselves as Quỳnh yanks the ship into a roll. Joe grips the armrests and keeps his eyes on the battlestation, seeking out any indication of their shuttle, of another pod, _anything_.

They can survive grenades. He's lost limbs before and regrown them. Once he cut Nicolò's head off—that was the fourth time he'd killed him, outside of Jerusalem. In the early days of gunpowder, Andy had accidentally blown herself to bits; that was ugly. But she came back. They always come back. Until they don't.

Impressively, given their track record, none of them have walked out an airlock without a spacesuit yet. He imagines it would be a fairly awful way to die, but quick, and probably not so bad to wake up from. At least every piece of you is present and accounted for. That's always the worst, regrowing the missing bits. That's the most painful. And Quỳnh's nanobombs are extraordinarily destructive, but as long as Nicky's not literally on top of one when they go off, he won't be ripped to shreds. He'll either die in the fire or simply be vented along with all the air when the Death Star rips apart.

Joe's cheeks feel wet. He scrubs a hand across his face, not so much because it's bothering him, but because the tears blur his vision, and he needs to be able to _see_ to continue searching for any sign of Nicky.

"Five minutes," Quỳnh says tersely. "And I'll need to pull away _fast_ if we get much closer."

Joe abruptly throws himself forward, pointing frantically. "There, there, what's that?"

"Definitely not our shuttle," Nile says, but she's with him, leaning over his shoulder, while Booker tries to bring it up on a viewscreen. "Not one of those damn pods, either—"

"Fighters?" Booker tries. "I mean, you know a station that size has to have a couple of squadrons to scramble."

Nile shakes her head. "Not moving fast enough, wrong shape, and it's just the one. Jesus H. Christ, it's a fucking scrubber."

"A _maintenance_ bot?" Quỳnh says incredulously. "The kind that run repairs on space station exteriors? Those things are piloted remotely, there's barely space inside for a technician—"

Joe swallows hard, staring at the dumpy little craft currently floating toward them. "No life support system, I'm guessing?"

"No, of course not, it's not meant to have a human operator!"

"This one does," he says softly. His throat feels raw and tight. "Quỳnh—"

"Yes, I know, I'm going!"

They dodge another round of strafers, but the scrubber ship doesn't. Can't, probably, if it's piloted remotely, and this one clearly isn't being piloted at all. It's simply moving forward on the force of its own momentum. One of the strafer beams rips across its stubby hull, knocking it off course, and Joe has to swallow back a scream. Quỳnh lets out a stream of curses as she compensates.

"Someone get to the cargo bay," she says grimly. "I'm gonna use the net."

Joe is on his feet and out the hatch by the time she's done speaking, Booker close on his heels.

It's not a literal net, like one would find planetside; more like a tractor beam. Quỳnh controls it from the cockpit, and she's damn good at it, too. Nicky's better, though. He's always had a sniper's precision.

If this fucking scrubber turns out to be empty, just an errant piece of space junk, Joe will not be held accountable for his actions.

It probably takes all of another minute before the scrubber ship lands with a groan within the cargo bay, but Joe feels like he ages several decades in that time. Booker has to physically restrain him from slamming open the hatch before the bay doors have a chance to fully close and airlock. Once the light turns green over the panel, though, he's off like a shot.

Up close, the scrubber is even uglier, a glorified janitorial vehicle, squat and mottled gray. The strafers scored the hull, like claw marks cutting through the dull metal. It was never mean to hold a pilot, as Quỳnh said; there's just a large compartment that opens so that technicians can do maintenance from within. Joe scrabbles at the edges futilely, wasting long seconds, before he figures out how to undo the latch and pry it open.

His heart stops.

Somewhere behind him, he can hear Booker slap the intercom button. "We've got him, go, get us out of here!"

"Copy that," Quỳnh replies crisply. The ship rolls, and Joe has to clutch at the edge of the compartment to stay upright until the gravity stabilizes again. The ship's grav, at least. His own internal gravity is completely off-kilter.

Nicky is so pale and still, curled up awkwardly to fit within the scrubber ship. His lips are blue—likely due to lack of oxygen rather than cold, but what the hell does Joe know? He's not breathing. His skin is icy to the touch.

It looks like it was a peaceful way to go, after all. Joe has to swallow back bile at the thought.

He manages to maneuver Nicky's body around enough to pull him out of the scrubber. Booker hovers, but does not offer to help, likely knowing that Joe would never permit it.

Nile's voice comes over the intercom. "Death Star just went boom, so yay, team. I'm heading down there. How's Nicky?"

Booker murmurs something in response, but Joe tunes it out. He settles them both carefully on the metal floor, kneeling to rest Nicky's head on his lap, and wraps his arms around Nicky's shoulders to wait. He probably needs to thaw a bit before he can revive.

So often, the life crashes violently back through them, ripping the breath into their lungs, coursing like fire through their blood. But not always. This time, it's a quieter awakening. Nicky's skin softens under Joe's palms. His chest lifts, then his lips part on an exhale. Slowly, so slowly, his eyes blink open. They look bloodshot, as though blood vessels had burst and not quite healed yet. Joe has never seen anything more beautiful.

"Welcome back," Joe tells him shakily.

Nicky breathes, and it is music. "Oh, good," he mumbles. "It worked."

Joe chokes out a wet laugh. "You absolute madman."

In his arms, he can feel Nicky start to shiver, his body reacting to the conditions of its death. Space is _cold_. Just because he suffocated before he froze to death doesn't mean there's no damage to be repaired. Joe tries to help him upright, but it winds up taking Nile and Booker together to pull them both to their feet.

"Glad you're back with us," Nile tells Nicky, once he's up and braced against Joe's side. She cups his too-pale cheek in her hand. "Don't you ever pull a stunt like that again."

Nicky grins through chattering teeth. "I don't intend to, boss. Mission accomplished?"

"Damn right. That Death Star is nothing more than space dust, we did good. Joe, you got him now?" At his nod, she gives them both a smile. "Good. I don't want to see either of you for at least eight hours, you hear?"

"At _least_ ," Joe agrees.

It's a bit awkward, but Nicky has more or less regained control over his own limbs by the time they get to their cabin, which is good because Joe really doesn't know if he could maneuver them down the ladder otherwise. Once there, he quickly strips off his own gear and clothing before helping Nicky do the same, then pulls him into their bed and piles as many blankets on top of them as he can find.

"I'm _fine_ ," Nicky protests, laughing, but he lets Joe wrap his whole body around him, and tucks his cold face into the crook of Joe's neck. He's not shivering anymore, at least. It's a start.

Joe holds him close, breathing in the familiar scent of his body, and that horrible knot in his chest starts to loosen at last. He presses a kiss into Nicky's hair, feeling Nicky's arms tighten around him, their legs tangling together. "What on earth were you thinking?" Joe murmurs. "Why didn't you just get in the pod with Booker?"

Nicky sighs and kisses the hollow of his throat, then lifts his head to meet Joe's eyes. "It all happened too fast, and the guards were right on top of us. They shot me before I could clamber in after him. I barely had the presence of mind to hit the release button to send him away." He reaches up to rub his thumb across Joe's cheek, kissing him gently. "I found another way out eventually, that's all that matters. I came back to you. I always will, you know that. As you will to me."

"We never should have split up at all, Nile could have covered Booker—"

"Nile makes the best use of our individual skills, as Andy taught her to do," Nicky says softly. "She leads with both her heart _and_ her head. And that is why she is the boss and we are not."

Joe presses their foreheads together. "Thank God for that. I could not make those decisions. Nicky, I come untethered without you. When I heard you were trapped there—"

"Shh, love, please." Nicky kisses him again, more intently, deep and lingering. "Right now, _you're_ the one who seems to still be trapped there. Please come back to me."

"All right." Joe's voice sounds rough even to his own ears. "I'm here."

" _Sono qui_ ," Nicky agrees. "Be with me, Joe."

They wind up tossing aside all the blankets before too long. Nicky's skin is so very warm against his, sweat-slick and beautiful, and Joe falls into him, grounds himself within him even as they sail together through the endless expanse of the stars.


End file.
